No relation
by George and Fred Weasley
Summary: Antonin Dolohov returns home from Azkaban during Harry's seventh year. What is it truly like to be shunned everywhere you go even by your family? To be hated? (rated for future violence)


Antonin walked towards the large manor on the corner of the street. It was dark out now and he was losing strength. He turned the corner and walked up to the gates. There on a single small sign read "Dolohov". He smirked, and pushed the iron gates open. It was getting windy out and he was hungry. Antonin walked up to the door and knocked. The heavy wood sounded an echo throughout the area.   
  
  
  
There was no answer , so he pushed them open. Walking into the lavishly furnished Manor, and looked around. There were no lights except for the ones that lit the stairs. He wiped his nose with his hand and headed up the stairs he hadn't seen for seventeen years. Hoping that his things would still be there, he headed up the stairs.  
  
Once he reached the the top, he walked into the third room. It was still as humongous as the last time he had seen it. He walked towards the mirror that was beside the closet. Glancing at his reflection. His cloak hid the rags that were underneath. Antonin's hair was almost to his shoulders and was matted. He definitely needed to clean up there. He opened his closet and looked inside. There were no clothes there. His father must have cleaned it out when he had left.   
  
Heading towards the bathroom door he gazed in. They had left his razor by the sink. He grinned and walked in. Once he had shaven and cut his hair so it just reached below his ears, Antonin decided that he should search the house for some clean clothes.   
  
Antonin walked back out into the hallway and looked towards the end. There were two large doors that lead towards his fathers room. He walked in and closed the door behind him. The room was dark and the only light was coming from outside. He walked towards the closet and was just about to open it when he heard someone call.  
  
"Don't move."  
  
He put his hand up but didn't turn to the voice.  
  
"Turn around." The voice said.  
  
Antonin turned slowly, towards the man.   
  
"Antonin?"   
  
"Who are you?" Antonin asked.  
  
"Benjamin Dolohov."  
  
Antonin glanced at him for a moment shocked."Father?"  
  
"Antonin? What are you doing here? Your suppose to be in Azkaban." Benjamin looked Antonin up and down, noticing his clothes."You escaped."  
  
"Of course I escaped. Did you think i would stay in a cell, when no one was guarding us."  
  
"Us?" he asked.  
  
"Lestange, Matics, Goyle."  
  
"They are death eaters as well I take it?" Benjamin spat, walking out of the shadows and into the light, his wand held high infront of him.   
  
"What did you expect." Antonin replied calmly, lowering his hands and looking at the wand. "Your not going to kill me are you? Your own Son."  
  
Benjamin glared towards Antonin. "Your not my son, I only have one son and his name is Jaque."  
  
Antonin walked towards his father. "Your the one that drove me to it. Your the one that made me want a better life."  
  
He was now standing right infront of Benjamin, his fathers hand trembled as he held the wand to Antonin's throat. Antonin smiled grimly and grabbed his fathers wrist. In one swift movement he twisted Benjamin's wrist until they both heard a resounding snap.   
  
Benjamin cried out in pain as the bones in his wrist wrent themselves in half, spreading shards about below the skin and creating an agonizing pain that spread up his arm like a burning fire. Once Antonin let go of his father's wrist, Benjamin dropped the wand and pulled away from his son. "What do you want?" Benjamin cried angrily.  
  
Antonin bent down and took his fathers wand. "I'm only here for some clothes. Apparently I've lost all of mine."  
  
Benjamin stood up from his kneeling position. "That's because we never expected you back."  
  
Antonin looked through the closet, finding a blue shirt with frills on it, then a pair of trousers.  
  
"You would have had clothes, because your mother wouldn't have me throw any of your things out. She always hoped you would come back, but when she died, I got rid of them all."  
  
Antonin froze. "She's dead?"  
  
"Yes, she dies three years after you were placed in prison."  
  
He didn't reply. Taking the clothes he walked to the door. "You'll stay here, don't even think of leaving because I'll kill you if I have to."  
  
Benjamin didn't say anything as his son left the room and the door closed behind it. He knew that he wouldn't be able to escape, Antonin would place a spell on the room and he would not be able to leave. He pulled himself to the bedside, still holding his broken wrist.  
  
****  
  
Antonin walked back into his room and threw the clothes on a chair. His mother was now dead, his father had disowned him, and now was living with his father's love channeled towards his younger brother. He looked at the bed and his thoughts faded. He ran his hand over the mark then walked over and fell onto the soft bed.   
  
It was so comfortable, warm, and inviting compared to the small cot at Azkaban. Almost immediately he fell asleep not knowing that his father was trying to think of a way to contact his brother Jaque.  
  
****The next morning*****  
  
Antonin Dolohov, walked slowly down the stairs from his vast room. He had been here for one day now, ever since he had returned home from Azkaban. Only now everything was different. His father wouldn't exknowledge he even had a son, that the only son he had was names Jaques. And then his mother, who had been in poor heath when he had been shipped off, she was now in a grave, resting for eturnity. He hadn't known, no one ever bothered to tell him, or even exknowledge his exsistance. But when he had been taken away, he remebered her. Standing in the stands, standing up and watching him being pushed away by Dememntors. Her hair falling out from crying, but still she kept a firm face holding one hand infront of her chest to tell him to keep strong. His father hadn't liked it, the last thing he ever saw was his father trying to hold his mother back as he dissapeared.  
  
He could still she her face, determined though his father Bejamin had tried to stop her. She was what had kept him alive, and if the dark lord had wanted his family dead, he would gladdly kill them all but her. For her he would beg forgiveness. Telling him that she had not told a single soul of his nightly missions, but had helped him hide the truth.  
  
She wouldn't die at his hands, or his lords hands. But been taken from underneith them both by time. Time the eturnal killer.  
  
He cursed himself for not escaping sooner to perhaps be there before she perished.  
  
But he had to wait, wait for the right time when 'He' would open the way to the future.   
  
He glanced around the house. His father had been very productive, and had only expected the best from his sons. Well, he true son at least.   
  
Jaques had been adopted when Antonin had finished school. He was now 24 years old, and married to a lovely, Donna. From what Antonin had heard, they had had a daughter names Rebecca, and were now living not to far away in London.  
  
Antonin opened the huge doors that held his father from the previous night. He pushed open the massive doors and entered the darkend room. He could hear the heavy breaths of his father from one of the corners on the far end.  
  
Stepping lightly as not to cause his father more stress, he headed towards him.  
  
His father noticed him coming and cowardly backed deeper into the corner.   
  
"Do you fear me now?" Antonin hissed, "After all you said, after putting me away, now your afraid that I might kill you is that it?"  
  
"Kill me?" Bejamin spat. "You wouldn't dare. The Ministry will find you here and they will kill you without mercy. I didn't put you away, I saved you.'  
  
"Saved me from what?"  
  
"I saved you from corrupting your mother any further then you already had."  
  
Antonin slapped him hard across the face with his right hand.  
  
"How dare you talk about my mother like that." He cried, picking Bejamin up off the floor and hitting   
  
him against a wall. "She was more then you'll ever be."  
  
With one motion he tossed his father across the room and into the wall. His father crumpled to the floor in a heap, wimpering.  
  
"I'm going out, you try anything. I swear on the dark lord that I will kill you."  
  
Antonin walked to the door and slammed it behind him. He glared at the wall across from him then walked back to the closed off room he had once called his own. After grabbing his cloak he through it on and dissaparrated.  
  
To be continued............................. 


End file.
